𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄- 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐃

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐑𝐆𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐔𝐏. Corey had that wicked grin on his face as he slid closer to her, eyes fixated on her lips. Mallory tried her hardest to play the part of a tease, because boys like Corey loved the chase. But truth be told, she was playing hard to get because the idea of letting Corey near her in anyway made her skin crawl. She couldn't fathom the thought of having his hands on her, or feeling his mouth on her. 

She promised she'd do this for Alana, promised that she'd help make him pay. If Alana was brave enough to do what she did, then Mallory could face her fears to do this one thing for her. She'd be saving countless women from him if she did this. She could sacrifice herself if it meant that he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone else. 

"I'm really glad you called," Corey drawled, his thumb tracing idle shapes on her shoulder. His grip was firm, like he wasn't planning on letting her go any time soon. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. What you said the other day."

Corey grinned, eyes gleaming in the dim light of his father's den. The way he looked at her made her feel like she was being dissected, broken apart piece by piece and catalogued for his amusement. There was a darkness behind his gaze that never blinked, never softened. It watched. It devoured.

Mallory smiled softly, feigning shyness. She leaned slightly into his touch, just enough to keep him hooked. "Which part?" she asked coyly, reaching for the bottle of wine on the table. She'd brought it here earlier, and she'd be ready to crack it open soon. 

Corey let out a low chuckle, the sound a sickening mixture of amusement and hunger. "The part about you wanting me all to yourself. Is that still true?" Mallory nodded her head slowly, although she doubted that Corey would take no for an answer if she said she'd changed her mind. 

"There was always something about you," she told him, and she hated the way his eyes sparkled with delight. "It terrified me when I found out all the things that I was capable of feeling, but the truth is that I never quite got you out of my head."

"Then why did you run?" He hummed, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. 

Mallory wanted to bite him. 

But she didn't. 

Instead, she tilted her head and smiled again. "Because it scared me. You scared me. I felt guilty because of how much I enjoyed it... and how badly I wanted to do it again." She bit her lip and averted her gaze, but Corey gripped her chin to force her to look at him. His grip was firm, but she forced herself not to wince, and not to look away from him. She stared into those cold, unyielding eyes and forced the bile down her throat. 

Corey's pupils dilated, and his breath hitched—just barely—but Mallory caught it. She knew the effect she was having. Boys like Corey weren't used to the chase ending. They liked the power, the control. They liked when fear wore a pretty face. But Mallory was learning how to weaponize his desire, how to mold it into a leash she could pull tight at the right time.

"God, you have no idea what that does to me," he murmured, tracing the curve of her bottom lip. His touch was possessive, as if he were letting Mallory know that she was his now. She tried to pretend that it was someone else touching her, someone she trusted. She wasn't sure why her mind instinctively wandered back to that moment with Rhiannon on the floor. The moment where she thought they might kiss, until Rhiannon pulled away from her. "I always knew you were fucked up. I just didn't realize that you wanted it as much as I did."

Mallory hummed slowly, trying not to recoil at the feeling of Corey's hands on her. She could suffer through the feeling of him touching her, but if he tried to take things any further, she wasn't sure that she could keep the act going.